Worlds of Sun and Shadows THE SEQUEL!
by Island Breeze
Summary: This story is also not meant to be biographically correct! And it is the sequel to "Worlds of Sun and Shadows". BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND! CHAPTER 22
1. Default Chapter

Concealed in shadows cast by the mid-day sun, the gentleman observed the touching scene along the ship's railing, the close embrace, and the tender exchange of kisses between the cowboy and the daughter of Sheik bin Riyadh. The Englishman smiled to himself, so she was on board the ship. He had not seen her for parts of two days and had begun to wonder if she had embarked in Liverpool. Careful to remain unnoticed, the man shielded his face by spreading open a newspaper that had been tucked under his arm, all the while keeping an eye on the couple. As he feigned interest in one of the columns, he prided himself on his patience. It was his patience that enabled him to unobtrusively tag Frank Hopkins the last two days. He had periodically followed the cowboy around the ship without arousing his suspicion. He had even spoken briefly with Mr. Hopkins, polite conversation about the sailing, the weather, and he had purposefully refrained from asking Mr. Hopkins if he was traveling alone. The gentleman glanced up over the top edge of the paper. The couple was smiling and talking with one another. Yes, just be patient, he told himself, this was by no means the last day of the voyage, and if he was careful, if he timed it properly, he would find an opportunity to speak with bin Riyadh's beautiful daughter, without frightening her. No, he must not scare her; persuade her, entice her, yes. He noticed how Mr. Hopkins eyes were locked onto hers. He would have to seduce her in such a way, that his offer would be more appealing than the promise shining in Mr. Hopkins eyes. He glanced over the corner of the newspaper again. Mr. Hopkins was taking her by the hand moving from the railing to walk in the opposite direction along the deck. The Englishman's eyes targeted the rough rider who was talking and smiling at the young woman as he led her away. Patience, he reminded himself, he would have his time to speak with her, and when he did, the cowboy would not be present.


	2. Some Enchanted Evening

In her cabin, the soft glow from the lamp made the golden embroidery twinkle and sparkle on Jazira's damask robe, overlaying her thin linen dress. Tonight, her hair had a brilliant sheen, her skin a radiant luster. As she briefly glimpsed her reflection in the mirror she was not impressed with her appearance, but her dark eyes danced. Frank had determined, with her acceptance, to speak with the ship's captain after dinner, about marrying them on route to America. Jazira thought about her father and sadness touched the corners of her mouth momentarily. Then she smiled, this was a special evening. She searched for and found her reticule, stowed under the bed, and pressed her fingers along the lining. When she located the hard lump hidden inside she gingerly tore open the seam and nimbly untied the knot that held the object in place. When her hands were free of the bag, she stood up and held the large gold signet ring in her hands. The gleaming gold took on a life of it's own in the light. Jazira reflected--this was the first time she had removed her father's ring from it's hiding place since she had left Arabia over two years ago. She slipped the heavy ring over her thumb, and regretting her slender hands, she deftly tied it on with a bit of cloth. Jazira held her hand up for observation, and was infused with a warmth and affection for her father. As her thoughts turned to Frank once more, her cheeks flushed and she was suddenly anxious to see him.

Jazira left her cabin to find Frank's and upon reaching it, confidently knocked on the door. There was no answer. She knocked again, still no answer. Bewildered, she looked around the ship's decks but did not see him. It occurred to her that he must naturally be in the cargo hold, checking on his mustang. She smiled with assurance and headed below deck, totally unaware of the heads that turned as they caught sight of her exotic beauty.

After descending several flights of steps, Jazira came into the well lit cargo hold, and the stalls where the horses were kept. At the moment it appeared that they were unattended, and that she was the only person down there. She walked over to Storyteller, who approached her and nickered. Jazira stood on the bottom ledge of the stall for additional height and leaned over to rub the mare between the ears, asking gently,

"Where's your master? Do you know where he has gone off to? Did he tell you where he was going? Did he?"

The large horse, in the stall next to the mustang, whinnied for attention, and Jazira looked over at the Arabian stallion with a smile. The stallion tossed his head, and as he did so, Jazira's smile disappeared, alarm registered in her eyes. There was something familiar about this stallion, in his eyes, and the marking underneath his right eye, the patch at the far corner of his mouth. The features would be hardly discernible to anyone not familiar with those peculiar trademarks, to someone who had not seen them before, to someone who had not been taught the importance of those markings. Jazira's heart was pounding rapidly. She quickly stepped from the ledge of the mustang's stall and scrambled over to the stallion, immediately stepping up along that ledge for a better look. Was there a mark along the belly by the right foreleg? Now, the light in the cargo hold was not bright enough, the stallion was standing too close to her, and then the voice interrupted,

"Excuse me, young lady, may I help you in some way?"

The refined British accent caused Jazira to look up too sharply and lose her balance. She teetered and landed on the floor awkwardly to her embarrassment. The handsome Englishman came to her and gripped her elbow as if to steady her and replied,

"I didn't mean to startle you. Are you all right?"

Jazira couldn't stop the guilty look that betrayed her feelings as she answered, "Yes, thank you."

The Englishman smiled at her downcast eyes, her distracted manner and said, "That's fine. Has my stallion been bothering your horse?"

Jazira looked up at the friendly face, whose trim dark brown hair was just slightly graying along the edges while the mustache remained dark. She gained more self possession and answered,

"No, he just wanted some attention."

The Englishman quipped, "Well, I'll have to learn his secret if it gains him the attention of so lovely a young woman as yourself."

He noticed Jazira's eyes fell away from his, and careful not to make her uncomfortable, he stepped around her and went to the stallion without saying anything else. Patience, he told himself. He had noticed the signet ring she was wearing tonight. He could use that, if she didn't turn around and ask,

"May I ask, your stallion is so striking, so remarkable to see in this part of the world, where did you find him?"

The Englishman turned from the stallion to face Jazira and replied gently, "I think the daughter of Sheik bin Riyadh knows the answer."


	3. You May Meet A Stranger

As he closely watched the young woman's face, the Englishman knew his tactic, of placing his stallion in the stall next to Mr. Hopkins mare, had worked. She had been startled seeing that equine relic of her past. So much so, he knew that instead of fearing him, she wanted him to explain the connection. Now her dark eyes gazed at him in astonishment as she asked,

"How. . .how do you know me?"

He stood directly in front of her and answered honestly, "I don't know you, not really. My name is Theodore Lawrence. I saw your name on the ship's passenger list, Jazira bin Riyadh. And then. . ." he reached out for her right hand and indicated the large ring on her thumb, "I recognized the ring, it's your father's." Mr. Lawrence gently shook Jazira's hand as he added, "I did know him, Sheik bin Riyadh."

He could see the questions in her eyes, but she simply asked with sadness fringing her voice, "How is it that you knew my father?"

Mr. Lawrence waited until she looked into his eyes, then answered with a question of his own, "Let me ask you, how did you recognize my Arabian?"

Jazira looked from Mr. Lawrence to the stallion, a copy of which she had seen drawn in detail in her family's breeding book. She replied, "He is the son of Al-Altair." She looked back at Mr. Lawrence who was waiting expectantly for what she might reveal, but she only added, "One of the sons of Al-Altair."

Mr. Lawrence said with pride, "Al-Altair, a stallion never defeated in the Great Race."

He tore his eyes away from Jazira and looked back at the stallion explaining, "He was a gift from your father." But he glanced at her once more saying, "I was sorry to hear of his death."

He saw the troubled expression in Jazira's downcast eyes and said, "You are not aware of it, for you have no reason to be aware of it, but I am Britain's Minister of Foreign Affairs. Your father is well known in my circle." He paused then continued, "But I met your father long ago, before I held any public office. In fact I was the youngest officer placed at an Arab outpost, along the Hadhramaut." He looked at Jazira who was peeping at him from the thick veil of her eyelashes, and asked, "Do you know the story?" However, before she could reply he related, "It was the dry season, the British, we, were protecting the wells and cisterns already in existence, and me and my men were digging a new well after finding evidence of an underground spring, I was overseeing the work. Your father was camping nearby. He was a most hospitable man, and even though his water supply was low for him and his family, his house, let alone his stock, he shared what he had with us. But it took longer than any of us expected before we tapped into the spring. One night, as often happens, there was a razzia, a sudden raid, on his camp. I had seen the raiders coming, they were not from any local tribe that I knew. I gathered my men and we went to fight alongside your father and brothers. I believe one of his sons was killed that night. Somehow his mother found out and she came outside her tent, right into the middle of the battle. I'll never forget that sight, she was pregnant. I was afraid she would be killed and I went to her, shielded her, protected her, until she was safely back inside the tent. The next day, when my men went back to digging the well, we found water. Your father was so grateful for our help, for protecting his unborn child, his son, and for the water, that he gave me a colt from Al-Altair."

The story concluded, Mr. Lawrence was disturbed to find tears shimmering in Jazira's eyes. But, she knew what Mr. Lawrence did not. She had been that unborn child, and she had just learned that her father had sacrificed what was sacred to him, for her, even before she was born.


	4. Across A Crowded Room

Frank looked at the brass clock on the wall of the Captain's office. He had been conversing with the Captain for forty-five minutes and he knew Jazira would be looking for him. At one point during the conversation, he boldly stood up suggesting he needed to find his traveling companion and he did not want her to wonder where he was, but the Captain simply waved the problem away and called one of the pursers into the office ordering the young man to find Mr. Hopkins "companion" and to tell her his whereabouts. Frank frowned, but out of respect and because of the Captain's congeniality he resigned himself to this arrangement. However, Frank had little hope of the purser's carrying out the Captain's order as he saw him walk in the opposite direction to assist a young woman and her small child.

Frank considered that either the Captain had an insatiable curiosity or he was purposefully trying to stall him for some reason. The questions seemed endless, putting Frank's nerves on edge. Adding to that, he couldn't suppress the tiny suspicion that had burrowed in his mind as the interview drug on, to his obvious displeasure. Frank felt that something had fallen out of rhythm, this lengthy conversation didn't make sense. Anxious to get out of the office that seemed to suffocate him, Frank interrupted the Captain as he abruptly stood up saying,

"I'm sorry sir, but I've really got to be going. It's just not polite to keep a lady waiting."

The Captain's last word evaporated in the warm air of their close quarters, and some of the friendliness in his smile disappeared as well. He stood up and politely put out his hand to the cowboy. His compliment sounded more like a complaint as he said,

"And you have such an exquisite traveling companion, Mr. Hopkins. She has drawn much attention from our passengers, this voyage."

Frank leveled a hard look at the Captain. There was something dark underlying his remark. As he shook the Captain's hand, he tried to draw him out by saying,

"I hope to make her my wife during this trip."

The Captain replied slowly, "I see. . .and you would like me to marry you? . . .Naturally, I'll have to hear what the young woman thinks, before I give you an answer."

Frank was aware of that feeling once more, like he was being forestalled. He looked the Captain in the eye and said, "We'll try to find you after dinner this evening. Then she can speak with you, herself."

The Captain looked away from Frank and cleared his throat saying, "Yes, well, I will be dining with an important British officer this evening. We will be talking at some length, I assure you."

Frank's jaw hardened, "Well, we'll just find you later then."

The Captain's reply was cagey, "Perhaps you will. Good evening, Mr. Hopkins. I don't want to detain you from meeting your attractive companion any longer."

Frank squinted in disdain as he turned to leave saying, "Good evening, sir."

As Frank shut the door behind him, the Captain turned and looked at the clock on the wall.

Frank felt the immediate relief of the refreshing ocean breeze as he quickly walked along the deck, his boots echoing against the hardwood. He only glimpsed the stunning sunset a moment, hoping to find Jazira and share it with her, before it faded into the night. He went down several flights of steps until he reached the corridor where Jazira's cabin was located. He knocked on Room 327, but there was no answer. He called out her name through the barrier of the door, but all was quiet. Perhaps she had already gone up to see the sunset, but after thoroughly searching the decks he looked in the library and the parlor, before deciding she might be in the cargo hold with the horses. The blazing colors had already faded from the sky as Frank rounded a corner to reach the steps, and saw the young livery man, who was supposed to be in charge of the horses, flirting with a lady's maid. A scene that would normally have been amusing to Frank, now irritated him. He descended the steps into the well lit cargo hold, the faint sound of voices meeting him first. As he cleared the bulkhead, he saw Jazira, her back was to him. Standing very close to her was a handsome, well dressed gentleman, holding her right hand in his saying devoutly,

". . .you can see why, I feel. . .that meeting you. . .on board this ship, was no mere accident."

Frank froze.


	5. Somehow You'll Know

Mr. Lawrence broke his intense gaze into Jazira's eyes and looked up over her head to see Frank Hopkins standing tall and erect on the last step into the cargo hold. The cowboy's position was defensive, his shoulders squared, his right hand clinched into a fist, the eyes dark and foreboding under the brim of his Stetson. Mr. Lawrence looked back down at Jazira, her face revealing she was still absorbed in what they had just finished discussing. He released her hand, and smoothly reached inside his jacket taking out his pocket watch. He looked at the time and with complete gallantry said,

"I apologize for keeping you so long, it appears you have a previous engagement, which I seem to have interrupted."

Still distracted, Jazira followed Mr. Lawrence's glance and as she turned around and saw Frank, she came back to reality. Frank tried to force a smile, and make his fist open up as she turned to look at him. He tried to crush the question that kept repeating itself over and over in his head, 'What's going on here?'

When Jazira's eyes met his, her face broke into a happy smile that reached into her eyes. It was beautiful enough to pull Frank down from that last step, with a cautious smile of his own.

Mr. Lawrence stole a quick glimpse of the two of them and said just as quickly, "I'll say good evening then."

Jazira didn't see the gracious dip of his head as he stepped by, her eyes were on Frank as he approached them, his blue eyes fastened on to hers.

Mr. Lawrence said dartingly, "Good evening, sir." He attempted to proceed towards the steps, but Frank arrested him by stepping partially in his way and saying with deliberate politeness while extending his hand,

"I'm sorry, I don't believe I know you."

Mr. Lawrence reminded himself that Jazira was observing him, and though his eyes challenged Frank's, his voice was friendly as he shook Frank's hand replying, "No, you're quite right. I met you one day up on deck, however that does not qualify as an acquaintance does it? My name is Theodore Lawrence."

Frank quickly tracked his memory and recalled a brief, ordinary conversation with the man. He also recalled feeling like the Englishman had been following him, but had attributed the sensation to his concern for Jazira at the time. Mr. Lawrence noted the doubt and suspicion in Frank's eyes as he said with gravity meant to leave an impression, "Frank Hopkins."

Mr. Lawrence tilted his head to the side saying, "A pleasure, Mr. Hopkins." He couldn't resist a daring look at Jazira who was warily watching them both. He held the look a meaningful moment longer as he said, "Madam."

He took the liberty of giving Mr. Hopkins a dubious smile and then exited up the steps.

Frank's head turned partially over his shoulder, his jaw was clinched and he stared into Mr. Lawrence's vacant spot for a second, collecting his thoughts. When he looked up he saw Jazira also deep in thought. Her dark eyes were troubled, her left arm tightly encircling her waist and supporting her right arm, the slender hand plucking at her bottom lip in consternation. Studying her demeanor, Frank walked over to her. Suddenly she seemed very vulnerable. He placed his hands on her upper arms, and when she didn't look at him, he felt his adrenaline kick in, and his heart beat faster. A surge of protective power swept throughout his being, but it was not to be released, not yet.

He asked firmly, "Are you okay? What's happened?"

His blue eyes were rock solid and waiting for her when she looked up at him. So much flashed so rapidly across the sable darkness of her eyes, Frank could not absorb it all. Jazira felt his strength, his desire to understand, and it sent panic through her. She impetuously threw herself into his arms, against his chest, wrapping her arms around him, clinging desperately to him as she said fervently,

"Frank, I love you! I love you so much!"

Frank held her so tightly, Jazira's toes barely touched the floor. Yet, as closely as he wrapped himself around her, his instincts told him he was about to lose her. He didn't know how, or why, or to what. Fear sliced through his heart with deliberate precision and pain. He reached up and put his hands on either side of Jazira's head and gently pulled her back. His look lingered on her full lips for a second, and then he leaned down. He hoped the intense kiss would hold back the growing fear inside of him, hold off that shadow lurking in their future. At first, the power behind the kiss scared Jazira, but momentarily she returned his kiss fully. So why did he feel as if he were losing her?


	6. What Does This Mean

The dazzling dining room titillated with the sound of pleasant, light voices and the clink of silverware on china. Frank and Jazira stood uncomfortably on the threshold, waiting for the attendant to direct them to a table. They were quite a spectacle as they waited, the cowboy with his deep tan and rugged good looks, the foreign woman with her dark beauty and exotic dress. The volume of conversation, generated within the room, dropped a decibel into dramatic whispers and exclamations. In an exclusive and distant corner of the dining room, the Captain interrupted Mr. Lawrence and pointed in the direction of the young couple. Mr. Lawrence dropped his train of thought and focused his attention on Frank and Jazira. He studied the young woman in particular. Her head was turned away from Mr. Hopkins, and she looked unhappy. Mr. Lawrence's eyes narrowed, he glanced at Mr. Hopkins whose eyes scanned the room for the absent attendant. The cowboy placed a hand on Jazira's back and it seemed to startle her. When she looked up at him, he nodded in the direction of the approaching host.

Frank felt Jazira jump when he touched her and went cold inside. As soon as they had separated from one another in the cargo hold he had subtly felt Jazira withdrawing from him.

The attendant reached them with large menus in hand, and a broad smile on his face. This unusual, but attractive couple put him in the spotlight,

"A table for two, sir?"

Frank replied, "Yes."

The host turned his smile on the lovely young woman whose beauty was only heightened by the sadness in her eyes. He extended a gloved hand in the direction of the full room saying eagerly,

"This way please."

Frank placed his hand on Jazira's back once more, indicating for her to step in front of him. As she did, Frank looked around the room, at the eyes trained on them, and considered that perhaps Jazira was just nervous. He was about to look ahead at the table the attendant had chosen for them, when something out of the corner of his eye grabbed his attention. He looked back in that direction, across the numerous tables, the many faces, until he saw him, the man who had been in the cargo hold with Jazira, Mr. Lawrence. And who was sitting with him? No one other than the Captain. Frank felt his back arch, his blood blaze and across that distance his eyes branded the two men as his to be dealt with later.

The Captain felt the sting of that look and cleared his throat, glancing at Mr. Lawrence for support, but Mr. Lawrence appeared to be only amused.

"Here you are sir," the attendant pulled the chair out a little farther hoping to get Frank's attention. He succeeded and Frank seated himself. After being handed menus, Jazira disappeared behind hers. Frank chose not to look at his, keeping his hands clasped over it, he looked across the room once more for the two men in the corner. However, seated he was unable to see them. Frank bit his upper lip and looked back at Jazira and waited. There was a sudden stir among the other diners but it did not distract Frank. He felt like an eternity passed in the silence between the two of them, and finally he broke it saying gravely,

"Jazira. . ."

She put the menu down and looked him resolutely in the eye saying sympathetically, "I know, you want to know what happened with Mr. Lawrence."

Frank breathed relief, his eyes appealing to hers with his need to know. He gave a single, dramatic nod and said earnestly, "Yes."

Jazira began to speak when a waiter asked for their selections. He then spoke at length about Madame de la Roche who was about to sing a famous operatic piece. Frank felt his frustration reach boiling temperature and curtly sent the uniform away with their orders. He turned back to Jazira, the menus now gone with the retreating waiter. She took one look at the fully charged expression on Frank's face and laughed. She tried to smother it by placing a hand over her mouth, but the sound rippled beyond and away from her. It was totally unexpected and surprised Frank whose eyebrows shot up, but it was a wonderful sound after all that tension, and soon Jazira had him grinning, and even chuckling. Couples nearby looked over at them to see what was so amusing. After a moment, Jazira's laughter subsided and though she still smiled across the table at Frank, the somberness returned to her eyes. Frank reached across the table and took her hand. Jazira breathed deeply then began in a soft voice which Frank leaned forward in order to catch every word. She said,

"I do not want to lose this. . .not any of it."

Frank asked quietly, but with firmness, "Why, why do you think you're going to lose this, do you mean me?"

His thumb made a gentle stoke across the back of her hand. Jazira looked at their entwined hands and then back into Frank's eyes, answering, "Yes."

In the brief pause, an announcement was being made in the background, they both ignored it. Jazira continued, "There is something I have to do, and I know you will hate me for it."

Frank gave her an incredulous look, and challenged her, "Hate you? How could I ever hate you?"

The sound of light applause filled the room even as Jazira said, "Because I'm going back to Arabia."

Jazira felt Frank release her hand. She saw the impact of her words on his face, in his stunned expression. The force of what she said made him sit back in his seat, speechless. Jazira's eyes filled with tears.

In the background Madame de la Roche began to sing.


	7. Gambling With Your Very Life

The passengers in the dining room were absorbed in the aria, the rich soprano voice filling the respectful silence. Jazira looked at her empty hand which Frank had just released and willed away the tears in her eyes. She swallowed and summoned her courage as Frank stared at the edge of the table in disbelief. Jazira leaned forward, the candle light flickering across her distraught face. There was a pleading note in her voice as she said,

"Frank. . ."

When the blue eyes devoid of feeling looked into hers, she faltered for only a moment, then began with purpose, "The Arabian in the stall next to your mustang belongs to Mr. Lawrence."

At the mention of that name Frank's hard jaw shifted and a dangerous light flashed across his eyes. Jazira continued, "I went to down there to look for you. . .I had looked all over the ship. I couldn't find you anywhere. . ."

She paused and Frank's eyes dodged hers, but he stubbornly offered no explanation. She picked up the story, "I recognized the stallion. He once belonged to my father." Frank was surprised and looked at her compassionately, but her eyes now avoided his as she continued, "Mr. Lawrence came in, and I asked him how he had known my father. We talked and I asked him had he been to Arabia lately."

Jazira glanced up to see Frank listening intently. She said dramatically, "Frank, he is the British Minister of Foreign Affairs."

Franks lips pursed together, his eyes took on a haughty expression, and he turned his head sharply to the right with a grunt.

Jazira continued resolutely, "Mr. Lawrence told me that he was working to find a way to contact a young English woman in Najd." Frank noticed that Jazira's tone became more enthusiastic as she related the account with growing personal interest. "Her father was a British officer, and the family had camped at the edge of his outpost along the Asir. The young English girl was seventeen years old, very beautiful, and she captured the attention of a young Arab man, Amid al-Rashid. One day she disappeared, and no one knows if the English girl went by choice or if she was taken by force."

Jazira was caught up in the story and she looked shyly up at Frank whose face had softened, his eyes fastened on the vivid expression on Jazira's face. Encouraged she continued, "Recently Mr. Lawrence's office in London discovered which city the English girl is living in, but they have yet to find a way to contact her. The British protectorate does not extend that far, and relations over there are tense."

Jazira interrupted her own story and looked directly at Frank, "Women in my world are treated far differently than those in the West. We have no choices. Men, outsiders, especially foreigners are not allowed into the sanctum. If the English girl was taken by force, there is no one who can hear her to help her, if she was went by choice, perhaps her choice is different now. But her father needs to know." Jazira added in an emphatic whisper, "I need to know."

As Madame de la Roche's fine soprano rose an octave higher, Frank leaned forward, his hands clasped together on the table nearly touching Jazira's slender hands. Jazira's voice took on a decisive note that contrasted to the enchanting melody in the background, "I told Mr. Lawrence I would help him, and the English girl's father. Although, I believe they are one in the same. I will go into the city where they know her to be and make the necessary contact for them, but more importantly, for her. And if she wishes, she can escape, like I did."

Frank's head was pounding with pressure and his voice was louder than he meant for it to be as he exclaimed, "Jazira, you don't even know the woman!"

Jazira replied with solidity, "I may not know her, but I know her plight."

Frank saw the conviction on her face, her stubborn will. He recognized it because he understood it, but he didn't agree with it, or with her. Guests at nearby tables turned to look at them. Frank's voice dropped to a urgent whisper,

"Yes, but you can't just walk into Arabia anymore, Princess."

He put deliberate emphasis on the last word and Jazira's eye narrowed as she retorted, "There is no reason for Prince Bin al-Reeh to know I will be in Arabia, he will have no cause to look for me."

Frank's eyes were distressed as he thought to himself, 'hunt for you' would be more precise. Instead he reminded her dramatically, "And who would have thought anyone would recognize you on this ship? Your chances of being discovered at an Arab port like Aden or Jordan is not something I want to gamble with, and I am no gambler."

Jazira balked, "It is not your gamble, Frank Hopkins. It's my life, my choice."

It was a simple statement but it carried the note of finality. Frank's spirit was roused and he said in rejoinder, "We were going to speak to the Captain tonight about sharing our lives and our choices."

Jazira's cheeks flamed, her eyes lowered, "That is why I have already told Mr. Lawrence that I will help him in Arabia. It was my choice." She softened the impact by explaining, "I couldn't have that responsibility unfulfilled hanging over my head on such a special night, such an important night in my life."

Frank was thinking quickly for some way to reach her, to reason her out of her decision, to make her see things differently, but she said, "No amount of personal happiness is worth a person's life."

The words resonated in Frank. He said earnestly, "It's your life I'm concerned about. You're gambling with your very life." He recalled the scene in the cargo hold, Mr. Lawrence's last words to her, and he added in a final effort to dissuade her, "Mr. Lawrence is right when he said meeting you on this ship was no mere accident. Something more is going on here, he's not told you the whole story, Jazira. I tell you, that man is hiding something. Do you want to risk your life for someone who cannot even tell you the truth?"

Jazira looked at Frank in disbelief, feeling like his accusations mocked her, and as an attempt to control her as she had been in her past. Her dark eyes flashed and she challenged him, "Are you saying that I don't know what I'm doing?"

Frank regretted the words that slipped out of his wounded heart as soon as they were out of his mouth, "Well, do you?"

Jazira stood up, even as Madame de la Roche reached the crescendo of her operatta, and said with fire in her voice, "If you question my judgment so much, it's a wonder you asked me to marry you at all."

She spun away in a blaze of crimson, gold silk, and ebony hair and weaved her way through the room and it's occupants. Frank stood up immediately and called after her,

"Jazira!"

His voice was drowned in applause for the performance.


	8. The Authentic Colt Pistol

The server was confused as he delivered food to a table with no occupants. He looked around the dining room which seemed to move en masse, shrugged his shoulders, and returned to the kitchen. The crowd also prevented Frank from catching up with Jazira who seemed to vanish from the room. He looked over the heads of the throng as he maneuvered towards the exit, but was halted by a steady stream of music lovers trying to reach the soprano. Frank looked around as he waited, his eyes almost magnetically drawn to that exclusive and distant corner of the room where Mr. Lawrence was standing and receiving his top hat from the attendant who then bowed to him and the Captain. Frank thought to himself, that he might well be the Minister of Foreign Affairs, but that man had some questions to answer, and there was no time like the present. Finally there was a break in the traffic and Frank reached the doorway. He looked outside along the deck in vain, Jazira was no where in sight. Frank re-entered the room and loosely grasped the attendant's arm as he was about to direct a young family to their table,

"Excuse me, is there another exit to this room?"

The attendant freed his arm and said with a hint of aggravation, "There is an exit through the service corridor." He premeditated Frank's next question and answered, "It's to your right."

Frank grinned, "Thanks."

He pushed his hat more firmly onto his head and found the hallway. The service corridor was long and narrow, but well lit by the lamps along the wall. Frank estimated the size of the dining room and chose the door that fit the measure. He leaned against the wall, his hat low over his eyes, his arms folded across his chest and waited. Presently he heard voices approaching the door from the other side, then it opened and he heard a familiar English accent,

". . .so all the men in my family carry the initials T.E. I'm Theodore Elliot, as you already know, and my son is Thomas Edward Lawrence, but his friends in school simply call him T.E."

"Yes, but will the lad carry on the tradition when he has children of his own?" came the hearty reply from the familiar voice of the Captain.

"Only time will tell, for who can dictate. . ."and the words stopped as Mr. Lawrence looked up as he rounded the door to see the intimidating cowboy waiting for him. When Mr. Lawrence stopped, the Captain pushed his head around the diplomat to see what was wrong. Frank didn't move a muscle as his eyes looked from one to the other of the men. The Captain's voice dropped to a hard whisper,

"Do you want me to get 'the boys', Ted?"

Mr. Lawrence studied Frank a moment but said, "No, no Captain, don't disturb them. This was bound to happen sooner or later." Then he said more to Frank than the Captain, "I should have surmised that when Riyadh left the table so quickly, I would be paid such a visit."

The Captain seemed to consider calling 'the boys' anyway, but followed the lead of Mr. Lawrence. Mr. Lawrence looked directly at Frank, seemingly armored to the threatening expression clouding Frank's eyes. He asked with a depreciating grin,

"Why did your lady friend leave in such a hurry, Mr. Hopkins?"

Frank's blue eyes were as cold as ice, his voice deadly calm, "Let's answer my questions first."

Mr. Lawrence scrutinized Frank who leaned against the wall. The cowboy was taut, like a cocked firearm, ready to pull the trigger at any time. The confidence, the control, and the attitude won Mr. Lawrence's respect and he asked,

"Where would you like to have this little discussion, Mr. Hopkins?"

Frank answered, "How about that little corner you liked so well earlier this evening?"

The Captain looked from Mr. Lawrence to Frank and back to Mr. Lawrence, with doubt as to the wisdom of Mr. Lawrence's choice. Personally, he would liked to have had Frank locked up for threatening a British diplomat, but how would you explain locking a man up for his lethal eyes?


	9. Even A Blind Man Can See

The corner table where Frank had spotted Mr. Lawrence and the Captain earlier looked much different from this perspective. It seemed more like an alcove suited to confidential conversation and with a view of the entire dining room. As he sat down, Frank noticed the dropped ceiling and the dim chandelier that added to the privacy. A waited approached Mr. Lawrence before he could be seated and bowed mechanically saying,

"Mr. Lawrence, sir, may I get you something to drink, sir?"

Mr. Lawrence handed the servant his hat and sat down formally ordering, "Gin over ice, Mr. Hopkins?"

Frank replied briskly without interest, "Whiskey."

The waiter asked Mr. Lawrence, "Will there be anything else, sir?"

Mr. Lawrence looked at Frank who impatiently bided his time and replied, "No, that is all."

"Very good sir," and the uniform disappeared.

Frank glanced over at the table he and Jazira had been sitting at earlier and decided that from the clear dead center view of it, they had not been led there by chance. He looked at Mr. Lawrence and wondered just what amount of subterfuge was he capable of. Mr. Lawrence watched him and was not embarrassed when Frank suddenly turned to face him asking,

"How did you know she was on board?"

Mr. Lawrence gave him a languid smile and responded, "I am a Minister of Foreign Affairs. Therefore, it's my business to be aware of the affairs of foreigners."

Frank cut his eyes at him and raised an eyebrow debating, "You don't know the whereabouts of all foreigners, so why her? How did you know she was on this ship?" His eyes challenged Mr. Lawrence, as he repeated with a touch of mockery, "After all, as you said, 'meeting you on board this ship is no mere accident.'"

The server brought the drinks, and tried to secretly slip Mr. Lawrence a note, but Frank's eyes had seen enough playing cards slip out of a shirt sleeve's cuff not to miss the folded paper that slid out from the server's. To Frank's surprise, Mr. Lawrence held it up for him to see, then opened it and said aloud,

"The Captain is reminding me, his constabulary on this ship are posted outside the dining room should you attempt to molest me in any way."

Frank appreciated the humor with which Mr. Lawrence treated the message from the over zealous Captain. The diplomat added with his dry voice and a lopsided grin, "So, you've been warned Mr. Hopkins."

Frank nodded with a quick smirk of his own. Mr. Lawrence dismissed the young man, "That's all, thank you." Then he took a drink of his gin, noting that Frank merely held his glass between his hands; he had a single purpose--the answers to his questions.

Mr. Lawrence resumed, "Well, I could tell you, Mr. Hopkins, that I saw Miss Riyadh's name on the ship's passenger list. . ."

Frank knew more was coming but interrupted roughly, "Why, is that what you told her?"

Mr. Lawrence ignored the question and continued, "I could say that I recognized her father's signet ring." Frank's look of surprise did not escape Mr. Lawrence and he taunted, "She was wearing it this evening. Did you not notice it, Mr. Hopkins? The sheik's ring is quite unique. You must ask her to show it to you sometime."

Frank tilted his head back, inhaling deeply and finding the exact spot on the side of that prominent nose looking down at him where he could place a right hook. Mr. Lawrence however, moved on to the next point, "Or, I could tell you that two friends you made during your sojourn in England contacted my office."

He paused to let the words register as he took a swallow of his gin, purposely rattling the ice saying, "You're asking yourself, 'what friends?' Well, they are actually my friends, but you met them in England. They told me you would be in Liverpool, likely to depart on the next ship back for America, with the noble daughter of Sheik bin Riyadh."

Frank's face was grim as he looked from his whiskey to Mr. Lawrence and said thickly, "Lord Wellingham and Major Davenport."

As Mr. Lawrence spoke, Frank took a drink, "Yes, the very men. I've known them both for years."

Frank looked straight at Mr. Lawrence and asked abruptly, "Is it true, the story about your daughter?"

Frank noticed the surprise that flashed across Mr. Lawrence's passive face. Then the Englishman asked in some disbelief, "So, she figured it out. That's what she told you, that it is my daughter who is missing?"

Frank reflected on Jazira's words at the dinner table and said, "Yep."

Mr. Lawrence shook his head with a slight smile. Frank detected the traces of sadness in his eyes, which immediately hardened once more as he said,

"And that's why I've asked Miss Riyadh for her assistance, which was no doubt your next question. She's intelligent, she's intuitive, she's well bred, she's well educated, she's Arabic yet she speaks English, she's got heart, and she's beautiful."

Frank spoke intensely, "It may be of no concern to you, but it will affect your purpose in sending Jazira back to Arabia. She has a price on her head."

Mr. Lawrence checked his mental dossier on the sheik's daughter and replied, "Are you speaking of Prince Bin al-Reeh and the failed marriage, or I should say the bride that ran away? It's been several years ago. It was all concerning that horse, anyway."

Frank said stubbornly, "The fact is she's not safe there. You can wound a man's pride deeply enough and he won't ever forget it."

Mr. Lawrence seemed to consider Frank's point of view and replied carelessly, "She'll be protected. It certainly wouldn't be in my best interests if she were harmed in any way. She's perfect for getting the information we need out of Najd."

Someone with a background other than Frank's would not have caught it, would not have picked up on the "we", but he had been used in the past, he was aware of ulterior motives and hidden agendas. Mr. Lawrence drank the rest of his gin as Frank contended,

"I've worked with people like you before, and one thing experience has taught me is that you never get the whole story. What else is going on in Najd? What are you really using Jazira for?"

Mr. Lawrence's eyes grew dark, his face suddenly cast in shadow as he said quietly, "If that's true, that you have worked in official capacity before, then you know you will never hear the whole story, not from anyone, and not from me. If you're concerned about Riyadh's safety, then I suggest you come to Arabia as well. Of course, I cannot guarantee for your safety in the least."


	10. Riding Away Into The Sunset

With the night sky wrapping around the ship, Frank felt as though he were cut off from the rest of the world. Passing through the intermittent streams of light shining from the lamps along the outside wall and the ship's railing, he walked slowly along the deck, deep in thought, his hands in his pockets. The refreshing ocean breeze lifted the lapels of his leather jacket and the damp hair lying across his forehead under his Stetson, cooling his ruddy cheeks as he thought about his intense conversation with Mr. Lawrence. The intimate scene he had walked in on in the cargo hold popped into his mind again. Mr. Lawrence had been standing close to Jazira, holding her hand. He had heard Jazira's explanation, he had the story further detailed by Mr. Lawrence, but under it all there was still the feeling of rejection. Frank stopped walking and propped himself up against the railing, finally leaning down and resting his elbows along the top of it. Jazira had agreed with him that he should speak to the Captain, she had wanted to get married, yet she chose to return to Arabia with Mr. Lawrence. The thought still stung him, though he had lived with it now for the past several hours. He dragged his hand across his face, wishing he could wipe away the pain in his heart so easily. No amount of explanation could take away that hurt. Sullen he considered that he didn't have to go to Arabia with them, this was Jazira's mission, after all, Mr. Lawrence would be looking out for her. Jazira could go back home to Arabia, apparently that's what she wanted, and he could go back home to America, he could track the mustangs, find Hidalgo, start his ranch. . .Yeah, he had choices too.

Frank stood up and stretched, then resumed walking to his cabin. A deep frown had set in when he reached the door to his room and pulled the key out of his pocket. He opened the door only to be welcomed by melancholy darkness. Keeping the door propped open with his right hip, he found the lamp with light coming through from the corridor. When light finally diffused the darkness, he let the door close and looked up, startled to see a crimson, gold and ebony form curled up in the low wing back chair in the corner of his room. His frown disappeared, he cocked his head to one side, his lips parted as he inhaled deeply. He gazed at her for a full minute, compassion flooding his heart. She had been waiting for him and had fallen asleep in that uncomfortable chair. How much he loved her! It was crazy to think of going back to America without her. He only wanted that ranch if she was on it with him. He had left her once before, thinking it would be easy to cross an ocean and a country, live with his Indian brothers, make peace with his past and go on without her. He had been wrong. Frank tossed the key onto his bed and walked over to Jazira. Her face was buried in the crook of her arm. Frank smiled and ran his hand gently over the ebony hair that spilled over her shoulder. He positioned himself so that he would be the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes, and sat back on his heels. He squeezed her shoulder. She jumped and raising her head, opened her eyes to find Frank grinning at her. She blinked once and then remembered. A stricken look came over her face and she sat up quickly saying,

"Frank, I'm sorry. Everything came out wrong this evening. I can't explain it, but this is just something that I have to do. I know you said before that you couldn't hate me, but I understand if. . .if. . ."

Jazira couldn't speak as Frank's hand reached up and cupped her sleepy, worried face. His thumb traced the outline of her lips as he said softly, "Riding away into the setting of the sun isn't going to do me a bit of good, if you're aren't there. I'm going with you!"


	11. Change Is In The Air

Mr. Lawrence was pleased when after several more days at sea, the ship that had sailed from Liverpool finally docked in the New York harbor, and there had been no further attempts by Frank or Jazira to speak with the Captain about marrying them. The last thing Mr. Lawrence needed to complicate matters in Najd were newlyweds. Besides, he knew his young Arabian agent, who he planned to use to get Jazira inside the city of al-Rashid and into the court of the women, would be less than pleased to be working with a woman of his own race who had chosen to marry a foreigner. No, after hearing Major Davenport relate how beautiful the sheik's daughter was, Mr. Lawrence knew she would be the perfect choice for Hasani, a handsome young man the British had befriended and found useful in their affairs with Arab provinces. Hasani was now a displaced person, and he needed a companion if he was going to continue working with the British. Of course, Jazira didn't know about Hasani and Mr. Lawrence planned to wait until they were on the ship to Arabia before going into further detail about what would be required of her once they reached Najd. In an effort to further cement her cooperation, when he saw Jazira nuzzling his stallion in the cargo hold one evening as they neared the New York harbor, Mr. Lawrence told her that the stallion would become hers if she found his daughter in al-Rashid. Mr. Lawrence admitted to himself there were not many moments in his line of work that gave him a sense of pride, but the way Jazira's face lit up with her brilliant smile, when he made the offer of his Arabian in exchange for locating his daughter, would be a moment he would never forget. She was such a winning creature, it was no wonder Frank Hopkins was drawn to her. Mr. Hopkins, however, was a different matter. When he met Frank earlier, after their discussion in the dining room, he asked the cowboy if he had decided to go on to Arabia with them, half expecting him to say no. However, he was faced with a new dilemma when Frank, observing his reaction closely, eagerly agreed to join them on the trip. It would be disaster if Hasani met Frank Hopkins, the entire mission would be compromised. Mr. Lawrence knew he had vast resources at hand once they reached Aden to keep Frank away from Jazira and Hasani. On the other hand, if for some unforeseeable reason, Jazira no longer wanted to cooperate, Mr. Lawrence could always use Frank as leverage, so there was that advantage. Meanwhile, he had the long trip to Arabia to divine a plan for keeping Jazira and Frank apart from one another.

Once they were in the New York harbor, Mr. Lawrence left the ship to book passage for Jazira and himself on the next ship bound for Arabia. Frank followed to make his own similar arrangements. Jazira stood along the thoroughfare waiting, the mustang and stallion held by a attendant a few feet away. In the busy harbor, a place accustomed to international travelers, Jazira's exotic dress did not attract much attention. It was her first time setting foot in America, yet she felt relaxed and comfortable among the bustling crowd, observing everything and everyone around her. Her eyes only rested briefly on the interesting Eastern man in the Western dress of an Englishman. He stood at a large flat surfaced podium going over his books with a monocle over one eye. Then Jazira's attention focused on another person that caught her eye.

The gentleman at the podium, Rasmussen, had felt that someone in the crowd was looking directly at him, and he raised his head from his work. His eyes immediately found the enchanting young woman in exquisite Arabian dress. He stared at her appreciatively for a moment, then called out to his busy assistant nearby,

"Bertholdt!"

When the man came to his side, Rasmussen directed, "Find out who that young woman is, and if she need any assistance. In particular, find out her name."

As Bertholdt walked away, Rasmussen continued to stare, there was something indefinably familiar about this young woman, although it was obvious this was her first time in this harbor, and in this country. Of more interest, was the great ring on the young woman's thumb. It was not a ring made for a woman. There was something even more familiar about that piece of jewelry. Rasmussen noticed that she purposely glanced off to the right. He turned his head to see what had caught her attention, even as Bertholdt reached her side. What Rasmussen saw, astounded him and solved as well as added to the mystery. Immediately he recognized the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and he also recognized the cowboy walking alongside of him. Rasmussen would always remember Frank Hopkins, and the merchant's smile grew wider. So, the enchanting young woman his assistant was speaking with was none other than Sheik bin Riyadh's daughter.

Bertholdt confirmed this assumption, saying, "She says her name is Jazira bin Riyadh and that this is her first time in America, and that she has companions taking care of her passage to Arabia."

Rasmussen was not just a merchant by trade, he was also a merchant at heart. So, the sheik's daughter was returning to Arabia after a well publicized two year absence. Surely, there had to be a profit made in delivering that kind of news to the right people. Prince bin Al-Reeh would certainly be glad to pay for such information. Rasmussen couldn't understand though, how Mr. Lawrence played into the scheme of things, and that, he knew, was where the big profit lay. Change was in the air.


	12. The Observation Deck

This time aboard the _City of Paris_, sailing to Arabia, Frank felt like he was in his own skin. It seemed he was spending more time at sea these days than on dry land. Nothing more had been said about marriage, Frank and Jazira's first fight had reminded them of the vast differences between them. There was definite attraction on both sides, and they shared fundamental feelings about life, but their backgrounds and cultures were gulfs they now saw the need to bridge. During the voyage, they shared breakfast together and walked the ship sharing their personal histories and in general learning one another. Frank had never shared so much of himself with another person. There were things he told Jazira he had never told anyone else, no one had been that interested, not even Chief Eagle Horn. There were humorous details of his life, his adventures with Buffalo Bill Cody that entertained her, and Frank liked making her laugh out loud so freely that she forgot trying to stifle the musical sound. However, on one occasion he related a story that involved a careless accident, a result of his over drinking. Instead of laughing as he had intended for her to do, her eyes shined with emotion as she placed a tender hand along his weathered cheek and looked deeply into his eyes saying with pain on her face,

"Oh, Hok'shel'ato."

In that moment Frank was completely vulnerable as he felt the concern and love flow from Jazira through him. Somehow, though, Mr. Lawrence always seemed to be lurking in the background. It was obvious the two men did not have much use for one another and Frank would usually go off to exercise his mustang when he saw Mr. Lawrence approaching.

One such day during the voyage, Frank left Jazira in a lounge chair, reading a book as he went down to the cargo hold to check on his horse. Frank had not been gone long when Jazira was joined by a young man who chose, out of several empty deck chairs, the one beside her. Jazira looked up from her book, to see if she recognized the young man, but did not. He immediately looked at her, flashed a wide, friendly smile and put out a hand to introduce himself. Jazira shyly responded to the stranger, who inexplicably pulled up his chair, moving so close to her own that Jazira's eyes showed alarm. She did not want to seem rude and leave as the young man was in the middle of pleasant conversation. He did not say anything out of the way, so she remained. His conversation was so animated that it drew the attention of passersby. Jazira wanted to return to her book, but the young man discussed a variety of subjects, and he talked at such length that Jazira finally relaxed and grew accustomed to his presence. Eventually, she began to respond to his remarks, which seemed to excite him further. Indeed, by all appearances he was quite interested, even absorbed, in her, which was the way it was designed to look when Frank finally came in search for her. When the cowboy rounded the corner, he could sense a buzz of excitement from other passengers he greeted along the way. But he saw the embodiment of enthusiasm when he caught sight of the good looking young man sitting askew in a deck chair pulled very close to Jazira's. He was leaning in towards her, completely focused on her. Jazira had crowded herself into the furthers part of her own chair to create some distance between them, and while she was not captivated by him, she was smiling. Frank had never considered himself a jealous man, but then his heart had never been so involved with any one. Heat flooded through his body, he felt his heart pounding in his chest as he noted the flirtatious movements of the young man's head, hands, and even his dark eyes. Frank squinted across the distance, this was no gentleman, just a fast young man using his charm on Jazira. And it was about to stop. Frank tugged on his belt and strode forward, his boots making confident contact with the polished hardwood on the deck. Jazira heard him coming and twisted around in her chair to look up and welcome him with a smile, but Frank's eyes were unreasonably threatening, she thought, and he refused to look at her. He only saw the young man who continued talking though he had lost Jazira's attention. Frank stood commandingly over him and said gruffly,

"Jazira, is he bothering you? Because this chair. . ."and Frank put his boot on the side of it and pushed it back with a loud scuff, "is too close to yours, and if he could see, this young man would notice how uncomfortable you are have to sit on the edge of yours."

The young man was startled by the sudden use of force and his face showed it. Jazira felt responsible and stood up taking Frank by the elbow calmly entreating, "No, Frank, it's all right. He just wanted to talk."

The young man was regaining his balance as Frank's eyes narrowed and he said with a bite of sarcasm, "Yeah, sure."

The young man looked up with a sly, saucy grin as he stood up and said to Jazira, "It's been a pleasure. I wasn't aware that I had made you uncomfortable, but I certainly seem to have made you uncomfortable, now. Good day."

He smiled and went so far as to wink at her, causing Frank to take a step towards him, but for Jazira's restraining hand, he may not have walked away so easily. Frank's temperature had not cooled off much when he turned to Jazira who was trying to understand what had just taken place. She said,

"Frank, I don't see what there is to be so upset about."

Frank breathed deeply and looked to over his shoulder to see that the young man had disappeared. He reminded himself he was not angry with Jazira and that in her world she had not been allowed much interaction with men. Perhaps it was time for a lesson. He said patiently,

"I'll show you." He took several steps away from her and asked, "Can you hear me?"

Jazira was perplexed, "Yes."

Frank smiled, "Right, so from the distance you can hear me, but it's not good for conversation unless you want everyone to hear you. So, I step closer."

He took a big step and closed some of the space, "And now, you can hear me even better, but is this a comfortable distance to you?"

"No," came Jazira's answer.

Frank was grinning now, "That's right, there can be too many distractions with this distance between us. So I step again."

Jazira smiled up at him, "Yes, this is right, that is comfortable."

Frank didn't say anything, he only nodded, then he took another step towards her, and stood very close in front of her . He noticed her breathing quickened, her eyelids fluttered, as she looked past his hard chest into his blue eyes, her cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink. He could almost sense the delicious tingles of her skin. Frank waited a moment then said softly,

"And this is the distance for intimate conversation." He paused as Jazira seemed to be counting the buttons on his shirt. Then he added, breaking the spell, "And that is how close that guy appeared to be to you."

Jazira's head shot up and she contradicted, "No, it wasn't!"

Frank felt frustration that she wanted to defend him, and challenged, "Then why were you sitting so far back in your chair?"

Jazira tried to reason, "Frank, there was nothing intimate about it, he was just talking, he talked about everything."

"Maybe not on your part, but there was on his, trust me, I know . . ."

As the little spat erupted, further down the deck, Mr. Lawrence looked on with a smile. If he timed it right, Frank Hopkins would leave on a bad note when he walked up to them. Mr. Lawrence saw Jazira's hands go to her hips, and made his move.


	13. Plans On Departure

Jazira bit her bottom lip as she tried to meekly listen to Frank argue his point about presumptuous and assuming young men and how they should be dealt with. Movement caught her attention from the corner of her eye, and she looked over her shoulder to see Mr. Lawrence approaching them, with a warm smile, so unlike Frank's present mood. Frank followed Jazira's glance in that direction and when he saw the diplomat, he cut his words off in mid sentence, flipped his head back and huffed, saying under his breath,

"Great."

Jazira gave Frank a warning look as he rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth. He put his hands on his own lean hips saying caustically, "When you're done with. . .with Mr. Lawrence of Arabia, you can find me in my room." He looked with disdain at the man and added sourly, "Or the bar."

Jazira turned on him sharply, "Frank!"

Mr. Lawrence reached her just as Frank walked out of ear shot. He said quite serenely, "Good afternoon. It seems that I never get a chance to speak with Mr. Hopkins. I hope I am not the reason he runs away from you."

Jazira was still looking at the invisible trail that Frank left, feeling uneasy, she hardly comprehended Mr. Lawrence's insinuation. She answered with distraction,

"Oh, no, it is just that. . .he has other things that need to be attended to."

Mr. Lawrence said suavely, "I see. He seems a little hot tempered."

Jazira looked at him wondering what had given him that impression and replied defensively, "No, Frank is not hot tempered. He is confident and strong, but he is not easily provoked."

Mr. Lawrence felt as though he were losing ground and proceeded with caution, "I am glad to hear it. I just happened to be coming along when I observed that little scene with that nice looking gentleman. . .I just. . .I don't know. . .I thought perhaps Mr. Hopkins was a little. . ." He seemed to be searching for the right word, and Jazira looked at him with some expectation, but she did not supply what he wanted. Finally, after tapping his forefinger against his chin he added, "Unreasonable. Perhaps, over reacting."

Jazira's voice was quiet, she looked down at her hands, her eyes troubled, "You did?"

She reflected that she had felt the same way when Frank walked up on her earlier. Mr. Lawrence spoke in a confiding tone, "I just thought he came it a bit too strong. After all, it appeared that the young man was just talking to you. . .I mean. . ." suddenly Mr. Lawrence's voice got stern, "he didn't say anything or do anything. . ."

"No, no," Jazira reassured.

Mr. Lawrence sounded relieved, "I didn't think so. You seemed to be enjoying his company. And who can blame the young fellow for wanting to talk with such a captivating young woman. I fear, that is something Mr. Hopkins will just have to get accustomed to."

Jazira's head dipped even lower in embarrassment, her cheeks were flaming. During their brief conversations throughout their voyage, she had come to respect Mr. Lawrence without his use of praise or flattery.

Mr. Lawrence resumed, "I suppose, however, that it is good to know how Mr. Hopkins will respond in these type of situations. I came to find you this afternoon to tell you more about how we plan to get you inside al-Rashid. Since I cannot seem to speak with Mr. Hopkins myself, I will leave it up to you as to when or how you will explain the arrangement to him."

Jazira was focused on Mr. Lawrence as he detailed, "As you know, you cannot simply move into al-Rashid as a single woman, even if you are Sheik bin Riyadh's daughter. Nor can you go with a English entourage, or an American cowboy. The best, most direct way to introduce you to Rashid society without arousing suspicion, is for you to enter the city as a new bride, coming to reside with your husband. Now, there is a young man, who is a friend of mine, who has been very helpful to me. He is Arabic, and he is the one who told me that my daughter was in the city. He took up residence in Rashid some months ago, but as a man, even an Arab man, he has no access to the women's quarters. When we arrive in Aden, I will send a messenger ahead of us. Hasani will meet up with us in the Najd. You do not have to fear for your safety. Me and my men will be masquerading as Bedouin just beyond the city, once you are safely inside. You will be able to see our tents from the rooftops."

Mr. Lawrence watched Jazira's reaction. There was a look of anxiety on her face as she considered his plan. It made sense, and bespoke of his knowledge of foreign affairs. After some thought, Jazira asked wisely,

"The marriage is just a ruse to get me inside the city?"

Mr. Lawrence replied, "Correct."

Then she quizzed, "Does Hasani know that as well?"

Mr. Lawrence gave a brief smile and answered without looking at her, "Hasani is used to adapting to whatever role he is required to play." He looked directly at Jazira, "I think you will get on well together."

Jazira only thought of Frank, where would he be, and how was she going to explain this new development to him?


	14. What About Your Will?

Over the Arabian Sea the night sky sparkled with hundreds of glittering stars. Appreciating their beauty, Jazira looked up at the familiar sky once more before entering the stair well leading to the cargo hold. Earlier she had met Frank and both of them had used the excuse of being too tired, so they had skipped dinner. Jazira's conscience smote her, tired she was not. Her neck literally ached with the burden Mr. Lawrence had placed on her shoulders, and her mind spun ways to explain this new plan of his to Frank. The stars were an inviting sight to behold. They reminded her that this day, when it was over, would take it's place in her past along with all the others. How often she used to sit and look up at the stars with her father. She missed him, she missed his counsel. He would certainly lecture her now, about her headstrong will, her defiant spirit; it always sounded more harsh than he intended. The Sheik had been their to smooth out the hard roads in life, to prevent her from being too near sighted, always reminding her to think about the future, her future. Now that Jazira had her freedom, she appreciated the security of having boundaries in life. Since leaving England, she was directing her own course, her own life, making her own choices. It was frightening to think that time was her only measure to determine if she had chosen wisely. Suddenly, on this ship full of people, Jazira felt all alone. She entered the stair well.

Since Mr. Lawrence had promised her the stallion, the son of the great Al-Altair, it was Jazira's evening ritual to give the horse a good going over with the curry comb. As she descended the steps an elderly gentleman passed her on his way up saying politely,

"Good evening."

Jazira returned the kindness. As she turned the corner she stopped abruptly. The stallion was standing in the middle of the alleyway, Frank was bent over, briskly brushing the Arabian's immense front quarter flank. Apparently, he had not been tired either. Jazira stepped forward, silently. As Frank stretched toward the horse's foreleg, he caught sight of the leather sandals peeping out from under the hem of the olive green and golden skirt. He stopped and stood up. His undershirt, the only shirt he had on, was open at the neck, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. The sheen of prespiration gave his skin a healthy glow. A bead of sweat escaped his brow and trickled down the side of his face. Something inarticulate had hung between them all evening, and Frank noticed the crease on Jazira's forehead, the worry generated in the back of her eyes. The fact that she remained unusually quiet, even as she was now, only proved something was troubling her. But, she had not told him what was wrong, and he would not force it out, she would have to come out with it on her own. Frank did feel for her, however. Whatever the trouble was, it was obviously a heavy burden to bear. So compassionately he started the conversation,

"Hi, it seems like neither one of us was as tired as we thought we were."

Frank gave Jazira a quick, encouraging smile and bent back down to his work. Jazira responded hesitantly,

"No, I guess we weren't."

Frank found refuge in his work. There was a barrel standing along the opposite wall and Jazira walked over and sat down on it. Leaning back against the wall, she silently watched Frank work. She could see the pull of his muscles through his shirt, the power in his arms measuring out the right amount of pressure in his strokes with the brush. There was something fortifying watching a man at work. Jazira sighed. Frank heard her and as he continued working he decided how he could best help her. When he finally finished with the stallion, he slapped him on the rump and said,

"There you go, partner. As good as new." He led the Arabian back into the stall and shut the gate, sliding the bolt home.

Jazira felt like her opportunity was slipping away and spoke tensely, "Frank, there's something I need to tell you."

That kind of statement was the stuff his nightmares were made of, he was glad his back was to her. He closed his eyes a second, gathering himself together before he turned around to face her. From where he stood he said gently,

"No, Jazira, not tonight. There is something I would like to say to you, though."

The look of relief that flashed across her face did not escape his notice. Frank began, "There was a time when I got involved in something much bigger than me. I was trying to do something good for myself, and there was a point when I said it was 'too late to turn back now'. I already had too much involved, and too much at stake. But it turned out to be one of the best things to happen in my life. It did change me, for the good."

Jazira lovingly smiled at him, she knew he was speaking about the Great Race. Frank stepped towards her and continued, "And there was a time when I believed I should give it all up, I should quit, that I wasn't worth the achievement of what I had set out to do, to accomplish. But then you told me, Jazira, blood is not more important than will. You've used your will, deciding to help Mr. Lawrence. I understand that. But, I just want to remind you. . ."Frank stepped forward again, now very close to Jazira. From her perch on the barrel she looked up into his eyes, and he looked serenely down into hers, saying conclusively, "It's your will, not mine, not his, that controls your future. Just remember that."

He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and coaxed her into the circle of his arm to exit the cargo hold together. She leaned into him, her head resting against his chest as they walked side by side. She whispered,

"Thank you."


	15. Welcome to Aden

It was midday when the _City of Paris_ docked at the Aden wharf. Jazira felt an intense mixture of sadness and excitement as she stepped on the deck to meet Frank and Mr. Lawrence who were waiting for her. The usually spacious deck was filling up quickly as passengers scrambled about, ready to disembark. None of the three spoke for a moment as the noise around them peaked in discussions about packages, cabins, keys, luggage, transportation, and destinations. Jazira looked at the familiar harbor, the native people, the camels standing along the dock for hire. She had only been away over two years, but it already seemed like a lifetime ago. The last time she had seen Aden was when she had desperately bartered her passage to England with the Davenports. Jazira was returning to her home a different woman, a woman making her own choices. Frank watched the varied emotions that played across her face and touched her arm saying warmly,

"Hey, are you okay?"

Jazira came out of her reverie and answered a little doubtfully, "Yes, I'm fine."

Mr. Lawrence cut a look at them and leaned towards her counseling, "We had best stay close together, or we'll have a devil of a time getting off this ship. It looks like the disembarking will be a general crush. Everyone will probably make a mad dash for it when the ramp is ready."

Mr. Lawrence glanced up at Frank who asked, "Where are you going from there?"

Mr. Lawrence's face showed some surprise. He glimpsed at Jazira whose face remained passive, and after a pause he replied, "Well, I will need to check in with my office here in Aden. Jazira will need to accompany me. After that we will procure some lodging for the evening, which should not present a problem. Then Miss Riyadh will no doubt want to get some shopping done to obtain a suitable wardrobe." He stopped unsure of how much to give away, then continued, "Of course, as you know my dear, it will mean purdah for you once more."

Jazira unusually quiet simply nodded. Frank asked gruffly, "Purdah, what's that?"

Jazira looked up at him and explained, "It's the tradition of secluding women from the public view."

Frank looked deep into her eyes saying, "That's one tradition I never cared for."

The sadness in Jazira's eyes changed to a mischievous twinkle as Frank's eyes seemed to challenge her. Mr. Lawrence broke their thoughts saying, "Tomorrow morning we shall be on our way to the Najd and to al-Rashid. Are you intending to follow us, Mr. Hopkins?"

Frank answered, "That's my intention."

Mr. Lawrence authoritatively held onto the lapel of his jacket with his thumb and forefinger saying, "Of course you know . . ."

Frank knew what was coming and interrupted, "Yeah, I know."

Jazira looked at them both wishing she knew what that exchange meant.

When the ramp was finally in place, the mass exodus began. Mr. Lawrence turned and looked back over Frank and Jazira's heads before moving forward with the crowd. Jazira asked,

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Mr. Lawrence looked down at her with a smile, "Nothing, nothing. . .I thought I had forgotten something, but I believe I remembered it after all." He put his hand against Jazira's back ushering her in front of him in the slow procession. Frank was annoyed that Mr. Lawrence now stood between him and Jazira as one individual rudely pushed his way by her unintentionally elbowing her in the ribs. Frank shouted out over the noise,

"Hey!"

Mr. Lawrence said nothing. It was their opportunity to board the ramp when a sudden shift in traffic on deck separated Frank from Mr. Lawrence and Jazira. Jazira looked over her shoulder to see that Frank was no longer with them and she grabbed Mr. Lawrence's arm anxiously,

"Wait!"

Swept along in the crowd, they were pushed forward, Mr. Lawrence saying, "Don't worry, we'll meet him on the wharf."

He quickly turned and gestured the same message to Frank, still hemmed in on deck. Frank couldn't explain why he suddenly felt suspicious, as Mr. Lawrence's hand on Jazira's shoulder guided her down the gangplank. Frank watched them steadily reach the dock and Mr. Lawrence call an attendant to his side. Jazira was looking up at him apprehensively. Frank decided that now was not the time to be reticent, and tipping his hat he maneuvered through the crowd offering his apologies. Halfway down the long ramp, Frank noticed Mr. Lawrence tipping the attendant for bringing both the stallion and the mustang down the ramp for luggage and livestock. Perhaps he had misjudged the man.

"Hello there," greeted a friendly voice at Frank's side.

Frank looked at the older man, recognizing him from the cargo hold. He had repeatedly run into the kind gentleman on a number of occasions during the voyage as he came down to look after his horse. Frank gave a nod and returned,

"Howdy."

As the traffic stalled once more, the older gentleman nodded in Jazira's direction and asked, "Is that the young lady I saw you with the other night?"

Frank squinted at him but responded, "Yes."

The older man smiled and said, "She has influential friends."

Frank admired the man's vision, but simply asked, "So, you know him too?"

"I'm a historian, a professor you could say, it's in my line to know little tidbits like who Theodore Lawrence is. Of course, it's plain to see, he is no friend of yours."

Frank made no comment as they began moving once again. He saw an opening to exit and said to the man, "Nice talking to you."

The older man responded, "Same to you, young man." Then with a note of warning that caught Frank's attention he added, "And watch yourself."

Frank now working his way through the crowd looked back at the professor who was looking intently at Jazira.

When Frank finally joined them on the dock, he took his mustang from Jazira as she said, "I was beginning to think you might be stuck up there permanently."

Frank grinned, "Me and you both, princess."

Mr. Lawrence, after looking around, finally asked, "Are we ready to go then? Jazira, why don't you ride the stallion? That way there will be less of a chance of you being separated from me. . .from us."

Jazira answered, "Of course, but you forget, I know my way around here."

Mr. Lawrence gave her his hand to help her up and said distractedly, "Yes, yes, but please humor me, dear, in this instance. It's so crowded right now."

Frank's jaw hardened and he cocked his head to the side. Jazira glanced at him momentarily, but then did as Mr. Lawrence bid and climbed on top of the stallion. Mr. Lawrence went to the Arabian's head and took up the lead rope.

As he watched the proceedings with some misgivings, someone tapped Frank on the shoulder. He turned around to see it was and in the moment that it took him to recognize the good looking young man who had cornered Jazira on deck during the voyage, he completely missed seeing the upper cut as it connected with his jaw, immediately followed by a right hook that landed Frank on the Aden dock.


	16. You've Won A Friend

Mr. Lawrence spoke in such a low tone that with all the noise along the busy street, Jazira had to lean forward in her saddle in order to hear him. As he led the stallion along the passageway, she barely caught his question,

"Did you explain to Mr. Hopkins, how you are getting into al-Rashid, as a new bride?"

Jazira answered still leaning forward, "I told Frank that I would have the protection of a guardian. That is accurate enough."

Mr. Lawrence looked up at her with a knowing gleam in his eyes and with simple admiration, "Clever."

Jazira didn't like the look of familiarity that Mr. Lawrence bestowed upon her and she sat up, her cheeks hot. With a feeling of guilt, she turned to look back at Frank, to suddenly realize he was not behind them anymore. She instantly pulled up on the reins even as Mr. Lawrence led the stallion forward. The horse took several steps backward and whinnied.

Jazira shouted to Mr. Lawrence, "Stop! Frank. . .I don't see Frank, he's gone! We must have gotten separated!"

Mr. Lawrence came up and stood at Jazira's side, looking back towards the harbor. Jazira was about to turn the stallion around saying, "We must turn back and find him."

Mr. Lawrence placed a restraining hand on his stallion's flank responding, "No, I don't think he got separated from us. The important thing is to reach my office and get you off the streets and out of sight." He then looked up at her adding with regret, "I should have told you to wear the veil before we got off the ship."

Jazira heard the anxious tenor of his voice and asked, "Why?"

"Because on the ship, I felt as if we were being followed. Once we were on the dock I was almost certain of it. I think that perhaps Mr. Hopkins has purposely stayed behind to discover who is following us. Most importantly for us, for you, and for Mr. Hopkins, is to get inside and out of sight for a few hours."

Mr. Lawrence moved quickly and took up the lead rope once more and hurried towards his office.

Jazira would have found Mr. Lawrence's explanation hard to believe, if she had not experienced that same feeling, of being watched, herself. However, as she craned her neck to look back at the wharf, what concerned her now was the fact that she didn't see Frank, anywhere.

On the dock, Frank gingerly raised up, telling himself that if he had not been taken by surprise he would never have been knocked off his feet in the first place.

"Easy, easy does it young man," came a kindly voice along with a supporting hand.

The more Frank moved the more pain he felt. He refused to groan with the throbbing pain in his head, the dull ache in his stomach, and the jabbing pain in his back. He grimaced instead. The kind voice spoke again,

"That fellow did a thorough job. I suppose it's safe to assume, that he was not a friend of yours either."

Frank sat up, keeping his eyes closed as his head seemed to spin. He said lightly, but with a slurred voice, "Guess. . .I wasn't watching. . .myself."

The man said, "I noticed you didn't get much help, from anyone."

Frank opened his eyes trying to discern through the blur if Jazira was in sight. He replied, "I take care of myself."

Trying to summon more strength than he felt, Frank pushed himself up into a standing position with the older man's aid. Frank looked at him and saw that it was the professor. The professor steadied Frank saying,

"I imagine that you intend to look after that young lady as well."

Frank gave a weak nod, but his words rang true, "That's right."

As his eyes swept across the people moving around them, the professor said with quiet emphasis, "Then I think you should know that she is being followed."

Frank forced his eyes to remain open, and his mind to focus as he asked with alarm, "What? What do you mean?"

"Just that, your friend is being followed by an Arab man. I first noticed him on the ship, then on the dock, he was lingering around while I was talking with you on the ramp. And again, just now, when your friend was being led away by Mr. Lawrence, the man was like a shadow hanging behind them and out of sight."

Frank saw that an attendant was holding onto his and the professor's horses. Frank reached towards him saying,

"I've got to find her."

The professor asked with concern, "Are you able to ride? Do you know where you are going?"

Frank answered licking his lips and finding dried blood on them, "No."

The professor consulted his fob watch saying, "Well, I think I may know my way around here a little better than you. Why don't I come along?"

Frank put a foot in the stirrup and replied, "I'd appreciate it. Thank you kindly."


	17. His Story

Frank was already in his saddle, his eyes skimming the moving throng of people along the harbor for any sight of Jazira or Mr. Lawrence. The professor climbed onto his quarter horse asking,

"Do you know where they were headed?"

Frank answered, "He said he had to check in with his office, before they found lodging for the night."

The professor proved to be an attentive listener and as they put their horses into motion, commented, "You said, 'they', am I to assume that you are not included in their plans?"

Frank uncomfortably adjusted his seat in the saddle, unsure of how to answer that question. But the facts were, he had not promised, nor did he owe, Mr. Lawrence anything, and Frank could certainly use a friend, so he answered,

"I'm here to look after Jazira. She's not safe here and Mr. Lawrence has his own agenda--he's only looking out for his own interests. When she's done what he's asked, he'll be through with her."

Both men scanned the crowd as they slowly made their way through it to enter the streets of Aden. The professor remarked,

"Your friend, what is her name? Jazira? She's willing to make quite a sacrifice, with her own safety being at risk."

Frank looked over at the professor and said with pride, "She was willing to do it for me."

The professor thought a moment and said, "I can see, though, how that would put you at odds with Mr. Lawrence. I don't know exactly what he is using Jazira for, but I happen to know he plays a deep hand, even though the stakes are high." Frank slowed his mustang even more, giving the professor a questioning look, to which he got this response, "The, what shall I call it, errand? The errand, your friend may be sent on, may be only a pretense, I don't know. I do know however, as a historian, that there is evidence of political change about to occur in some regions of Arabia. That is why I have come back to this land, I want to see history in the making, I am after all, a old and learned man."

Feeling overwhelmed, Frank decided to confide in the older man, "Mr. Lawrence told Jazira his daughter was taken captive and now lives in a place called Rashid. Do you know if that is true?"

The professor replied, "I know that Mr. Lawrence has a fourteen year old son, named Thomas Edward, who is already in the university. And that he has a daughter who has been missing for several years in Arabia."

Frank was humbly surprised, "So, it's true! Jazira was right!"

The professor was perplexed and exclaimed suddenly, "Of course! That makes sense! That explains everything!"

Frank looked at the professor with one eyebrow arched, waiting for an explanation. He was not disappointed. The older man spoke with excitement,

"Don't you see? Mr. Lawrence knows there is going to be action in Rashid. There is movement in the north, rumors of a Abdul Ibn Saud making plans, gathering men to his cause. Mr. Lawrence must know that Rashid is on the Saud's map for conquest. And he wants his daughter out of there, which means it won't be long before Saud moves out."

Frank was not caught up in the politics, but he wondered if Jazira knew all the details. He had never longed to see her so much, and he felt a new respect for her, she was doing something noble, at great risk to her own life. Frank looked at the mud brick building with a brilliant red canopy serving as a porch, realizing they had passed this street once before. He asked the professor who was still deep in thought,

"Hey, I thought you said you knew where you were going?"

The professor woke up and smiled, knowing they had passed the street Mr. Lawrence's office was on long ago, but he had been determined to get this story out of Frank and he had succeeded. Aloud however, the professor apologized,

"I'm sorry. I am easily distracted when it comes to my work. Yes, well, let me see. . .yes, we have passed by here once before haven't we? Come, I will show you the street where you can find your young lady and Mr. Lawrence. And might I add, that since Mr. Lawrence does not seem willing to include you in his plans for getting to Rashid, then I will be most glad to accompany you. I think we can be of great help to one another."

Frank said honestly, "Perhaps, but we've passed all these places before! That can't be happening on the way to Rashid. But one thing at a time, professor. Right now, I am only concerned about finding Jazira, and finding out who is following her and why."


	18. Far Away

The apartment Mr. Lawrence's office was in, looked like all the other dwellings in Aden from the outside, but once beyond the door it was distinctly British. The furniture, the calendar, the clock, the maps, the pictures were all European, all cold formality. The clerk had even offered Jazira tea, which she refused. All her attention was focused on the entrance and the street just outside, as she hoped with her entire being for Frank to walk through that door. Seated on a hard chair, waiting for Mr. Lawrence as he talked to an officer who once looked in her direction but whose voice was too low for her to hear, Jazira couldn't stop the suspicious thoughts that ran through her mind. Had Mr. Lawrence somehow prevented Frank from following them? At the wharf she had been subconsciously aware that they were being followed, was that Mr. Lawrence's doing? Had someone really been following Frank? Her mind took up the idea. If this was a nasty trick on Mr. Lawrence's part, it was working, for that threat had been the excuse for keeping her inside and out of sight. How could Frank possibly find them. Worse still, what if he were hurt? Who would help him? The longer she sat, anxiously waiting for Frank, the more desperate she became. Without warning, like a shot, Jazira stood up and crossed the room to the door, threw it open and walked into the street, peering down the alley for any sign of her cowboy. In that instant, Mr. Lawrence and the officer rushed outside and surrounded her. She tried to look past them, but they literally lifted her off her feet and brought her back into the office. It all happened so quickly that the scene only drew minimal attention from natives moving along the street, but as Mr. Lawrence closed the door, he saw a man standing alongside the building across the alley, partially concealed by the shadow of the porch canopy. Mr. Lawrence was only able to glimpse the face, but immediately recognized it as the same man who had followed them from the ship. He turned to his officer and said,

"He's out there. He saw her."

The officer asked, "The man from the ship?"

Mr. Lawrence ordered, "Get one of your men to ride into Rashid to find Hasani, tell him to meet us at the camp the day after tomorrow. Send another to get our Bedouin camp set up outside of Rashid."

The officer left to carry out his orders. Mr. Lawrence turned to Jazira. He noted the suspicion in her eyes, the worry that sat in their dark corners. He remained silent a moment, the clock ticking loudly in the background. He made his voice kind as he put a hand on her arm,

'I don't think you need to worry about Mr. Hopkins, Jazira. He seems like a man well able to take care of himself. . .and you too for that matter. That's why he's here in Arabia, you know. He doesn't think that I will do a good enough job of looking out for you." Mr. Lawrence found a gracious smile and added, "But you don't have to prove him to be right, so soon."

Jazira looked up at him and entreated, "Why did he get separated from us? I've promised to help you and I will, but I cannot move, I will not be able to do a thing until I know that Frank is all right. I simply cannot go on, until I know. Look . . ."

She unfolded her hands and held them up before him, trembling. Mr. Lawrence looked at her with appreciation, but reflected that he had his own affairs to look after. He steadied her asking,

"Jazira, do you know who would be following you? He was on the ship, so he must have sailed out of New York with us."

Jazira folded her arms once more across her waist and answered, "No."

Mr. Lawrence asked, "Did you talk with anyone in New York, other than Mr. Hopkins and myself?"

"No. . .no one except a gentleman with the shipping line. He was from America."

"And what did he say?" Mr. Lawrence quizzed.

"He said he was a clerk and asked if I needed any assistance purchasing tickets to Arabia."

Mr. Lawrence mulled this over trying to piece the puzzle together. Suddenly the door swung open and Frank Hopkins filled the door frame.


	19. Lest Old Acquaintance Be Forgot

Impossible! Was Mr. Lawrence's first thought when he saw Frank, whose jaw was red and swelling and a dark blue bruise beginning to shade his prominent left cheekbone, standing in the doorway. Mr. Lawrence was still contemplating how Mr. Hopkins had been able to find them as Jazira rushed to the cowboy's side asking with concern,

"Frank, your face! What happened? Are you all right?"

Frank glanced over to Mr. Lawrence, aware that the man was not particularly glad to see him and responded, "I'm fine, just met up with the wrong person, that's all."

Jazira looked back at Mr. Lawrence with suspicion, but he was distracted by the sudden realization there was someone standing silently behind of Frank. Frank followed his gaze and said,

"And then I met this man. . ." Frank stepped aside to let the professor into the room. Mr. Lawrence stared at him a moment trying to understand why that face looked so familiar. Jazira looked at the older man in wonder then said happily,

"Yes, I passed you one evening on the ship. We spoke."

The professor put out a polite hand and said, "I am very impressed that you would remember such a slight occurrence. I am very pleased to meet you once again. Thanks to my young friend here, I know who you are, but let me introduce myself. . ."and he paused and looked tauntingly at Mr. Lawrence. Then looking at Jazira once more said, "I am William Ward."

"Professor Ward" breathed Mr. Lawrence, his face unable to hide his complete discomfort.

Professor Ward smiled and extended a d hand to the diplomat saying, "Good to see you again, Lawrence."

Mr. Lawrence shook the hand reluctantly, causing the professor's eyes to shine with more humor as he amended, "Or should I say fortuitous?"

Jazira was content to be embraced in the crook of Frank's arm as they both watched the scene unfold.

Mr. Lawrence questioned, "Fortuitous for Mr. Hopkins, or for you?"

The professor stretched his arms out in front of him answered broadly, "For both of us, of course."

Mr. Lawrence ended the game saying, "Well, we were just on our way out to find lodging for the evening."

Professor Ward broke in, "Excellent! Mr. Hopkins and I will go along with you."

Mr. Lawrence proved true to form replying, "I believe Mr. Hopkins knows the conditions of his involvement with official affairs."

Jazira looked up at Frank asking softly, "Conditions?"

Professor Ward maintained his jovial smile as he said with great implication, "Of course, I don't make history, I just write it."

Mr. Lawrence turned red and sputtered, "Naturally, for you it is different. You are British and. . ."

Professor Ward interrupted and spread a gallant hand out in the direction of Frank saying, "And perhaps I forgot to mention, Mr. Hopkins and I are traveling together. Isn't that so, Mr. Hopkins?"

Frank winked, "It's a sure thing."

Mr. Lawrence muttered something inaudible under his breath then said scornfully, "Well, won't that be jolly good fun, to be all crammed into the same room together?"

Professor Ward turned and looked at Frank who was grinning at Jazira who smiled shyly up at him. The Professor smiled to himself and said, "I think we will manage."

Mr. Lawrence felt his control of the situation swiftly slipping from his grasp. Seeing Frank and Jazira in an embrace, flirting with one another, this late into his mission had not been in Mr. Lawrence's agenda. The situation had to be remedied and quickly or the whole operation could fail. He would simply have to try another approach, physical separation was only one method, and one that apparently was not working. An idea came into his head, something the nimble minded Professor could find no fault with, and yet it would serve Mr. Lawrence's interests. With a noticeable difference in his voice, Mr. Lawrence spoke up,

"Right then, Professor, I will let you and Mr. Hopkins go along with the clerk here and find suitable accommodations. Miss Riyadh and myself have some business to conduct in the marketplace before we leave for Najd."

Frank was alert right away, his playful manner vanished, and he looked over to Professor Ward whose experienced eyes showed their doubt as he said,

"We find no fault with that, provided we meet one another after our ventures are completed."

Mr. Lawrence now smiled as he said smoothly, "Of course, let's meet back at the office before the evening call to prayer."

The spirit in Jazira's eyes suddenly dampened and Frank unconsciously pulled her closer to him even as he realized there was nothing he could challenge in Mr. Lawrence's proposal.

Professor Ward said after a pause, "Very well."

Mr. Lawrence clapped his hands together in finality, "Agreed! Then we best be going, Miss Riyadh."

Mr. Lawrence picked up his hat and stood impatiently at the door, as Jazira looked up at Frank with sadness in her eyes. There was something else in their ebony darkness, was it regret? But there was not enough time for Frank to decipher it. Mr. Lawrence opened the door in an effort to speed thing up. Jazira took a step away from Frank and whispered fervently,

"I love you," as she moved towards Mr. Lawrence. There was something she was trying to tell him, it was in her eyes, what was it?

She had to turn and look at Mr. Lawrence who pointed suggestively at her face. Jazira frowned and took the linen sash from around her waist and wrapped it traditionally around her head then draped it across the lower portion of her face. She glanced back at Frank even as Mr. Lawrence took her by the elbow. He checked the street for caution's sake. The man who had been following them earlier was no longer in sight. Mr. Lawrence then ushered Jazira into the street and shut the door behind him. As the door closed Frank's hands were on his hips as he said dramatically,

"I don't trust that man."

Professor Ward stared at the plank door and said with dreadful calmness, "Nor do I."


	20. Mysteries Of The Marketplace

It was an easy agreement between Frank and Professor Ward, that they should obtain lodging as quickly as possible and then try to find Mr. Lawrence and Jazira in the marketplace. Mr. Lawrence's clerk accompanied them, addressing several different proprietors, whose apartments were already loaned out. It ended much the way Mr. Lawrence had predicted. After ascending a very narrow flight of mud brick steps adjoining one of the buildings they were shown a one room dwelling with a small window too diminutive to allow fresh air and too high up to reach. The room had collected the heat from the day and everyone mopped their faces. The young clerk spoke in Arabic to the proprietor and then turned to the men saying,

"This is available for tonight only. He says he has family coming. Aden is very busy this time of year. This will no doubt be the best quarters we find available."

Frank spoke up, "We'll take it!"

The clerk turned to the eager proprietor and as he handed him several coins, the young man gestured towards the bare floor and then pointed to a corner of the room. The proprietor shook his head, causing the clerk to hand him another coin. Then the man grinned and nodded. The clerk turned back to the men explaining,

"Well, it is all arranged. You came out better than I expected you to. He is going to provide some rugs and pillows for the floor for you to sleep on, and he is going to partition off a corner of the room for the young lady traveling with Mr. Lawrence."

Frank corrected mildly, "Traveling with us, the young lady is traveling with us."

The clerk looked at the professor who said, "If we want to see the marketplace, we should get started on our way. Thank you for your help young man. If we see Mr. Lawrence in the market we will tell him how quickly you were able to make arrangements for all of us, and how economically too. Do you happen to know what direction he was headed in?"

The clerk answered apologetically, "No, I don't. But may I suggest, the market will be extremely busy this time of day, why not leave your horses at Mr. Lawrence's office. If I remember correctly, you are to meet him back there anyway."

After tying up their horses in the courtyard beyond Mr. Lawrence's office, Frank and Professor Ward walked towards the marketplace. As they walked along the street Frank brought up a subject that had been churning in his mind,

"You said earlier that you noticed Jazira was being followed, and by someone who had been on the ship, did you mean he had been on the ship throughout the voyage, or that he came on board when we docked in Aden?"

Professor Ward smiled at the intelligent question and replied, "I was wondering if you had remembered. As a professor I am used to paying attention to detail. Did you notice Mr. Lawrence not only made your young lady friend veil herself, but he checked the street as if he expected someone to be standing outside the door?"

"You mean, he is aware she is being followed?" Frank questioned.

"Well, he has a military background. He would have been trained to be very alert to his surroundings. So I would say, yes, he is aware of it. In a city full of veiled women she will not be easy to find now. The only mistake Mr. Lawrence has made, is that he is with her. After all, I believe that is the only way we will find her, is by spotting him first. But let me ask you, who would be looking for her?"

Frank's forehead creased in worry as he responded, "From New York? From England? No one that I am aware of, although there are people here who could make trouble for Jazira, if they knew she had returned to Arabia."

Professor Ward was quite serious as he remarked, "Well, my friend Frank Hopkins, I think you can assume that is exactly what will take place."

Frank did not reply as they rounded a corner onto the crowded thoroughfare of the bustling market. There were stalls selling herbs, spices, chicken, fish, breads, vegetables, bags of rice, coffee, nuts, honey, oils, brightly colored robes, ghutras, iquals, abbayas, carpets, and rugs. For a moment the two men absorbed the sights and the noisy haggling as they walked along, but as they passed stalls selling pottery, copper, brass, and jewelry Professor Ward began telling Frank of the superior quality of these Arabic treasures and their true worth. They lingered at a stall where gold jewelry was perfectly positioned over black silk to catch the eyes and attention of passersby. Professor Ward dated some of the pieces telling Frank several deserved to be in a museum rather than sold on a common street. Frank found it all very interesting but as the professor talked history, Frank's eyes darted along the alleyway looking for any sign of Jazira or Mr. Lawrence. At last he was rewarded when he caught sight of the English hat entering a building some distance down the street. Fixing that position in mind, Frank walked away from the professor who realizing he had lost his audience followed calling out,

"Mr. Hopkins, I don't think it is wise to get separated."

When he caught up with Frank, Frank was standing outside of an establishment where a sign hung from a stave over the door, the writing in Arabic. Professor Ward joined him, his face flushed from his brisk walk. He looked up at the sign and read it to himself then turned to Frank,

"Are you sure you saw them go in here?"

Frank glanced at the Professor noting the perplexed expression in the older man's eyes. Then he glanced along the face of the building, all the other doors however had a porch of some form and he answered firmly,

"I'm sure. This is the only one with a sign like this. Why, what is it?"

The professor scratched his head and looked reluctantly at Frank with dismay on his face, causing Frank to take a step towards the door. Professor War put out a restraining hand saying,

"Look! Let me pop my head in, just to be certain, then I will explain what type of business this is, I promise."

Frank was becoming anxious with the professor's suspenseful manner, but the professor did just as he said and after poking his head in the establishment, he then quietly shut the door and walked back to Frank. Professor Ward's eyes were downcast and the usually ready smile was gone as he rubbed his chin. Frank uneasily shifted his weight. Finally the professor looked up and said with some confusion,

"You were right. I saw Mr. Lawrence sitting in the courtyard just beyond that door." He paused and shook his head as he continued, "I can't explain it, all I can do is tell you that this is a traditional business. I say traditional because it is the tradition that when a young woman is to become a bride, she often will have a woman skilled in the ancient practice of body art, paint intricate designs on her skin. Naturally, it is temporary, the ink comes from a medicinal plant. If you have never seen it before, the artistry is quite astounding. . ."

The professor rambled on hoping his voice would have a calming affect as he noticed Frank's body stiffen, his jaw tighten, and his eyes harden. Frank only heard the drone of the professor's voice, his mouth was suddenly very dry. He passed his tongue over his lips as he stared at that door. However, the professor's next words hit home when he said matter of factly,

"Traditionally, it is the only time, that I am aware of, in which a young woman will have this service performed."

Frank turned on his heels and walked away down the winding alleyway. The professor knew better than to follow him.


	21. Her Worst Nightmare

"I want to see her!" he demanded in Arabic.

"No! It is forbidden!" replied the veiled but insistent shop keeper, her little jeweled slipper stamping the ground for emphasis.

"If I do not see her, there is no sale!" Mr. Lawrence stubbornly responded.

The shop keeper's eyes narrowed furiously at him, then her eyes darted around, the street was not as busy as it had been before. Her eyes snapped back to the man and as she walked towards the little tent she barked, "The English!"

Mr. Lawrence smirked then waited with arms crossed until the tent flap parted and a vision of loveliness stood demurely away from him. His arms fell to his side as he was enchanted by Jazira in her bridal finery. She was dressed in golden Damascus brocade embroidered with a twisting ruby floral pattern that enhanced her dark skin and ebony hair, which was adorned with a headdress of tulle fitted with a band of dangling small coins that jingled in the light breeze. The sheer veil which covered her face only drew more attention to it, as well as the intriguing artwork that sinuously snaked in unique patterns down either side of her neck, disappearing into the crepe collar of her dress. The artistry reappeared on the back of her hands which appeared even more feminine under the ruffled crepe cuffs of her sleeves. Jazira refused to look at him, her head turned to the side, she looked at the ground and then at the shop attendant who reappeared to face Mr. Lawrence. The Englishman however, could not find his voice for a moment then shook himself and said gruffly,

"Wrap it up, it's perfect!"

And Jazira's perfect, he thought as he turned away from the tent to wait on the street. Perfect, for Hasani, of course. He could still see her slender waist, encircled by the golden filigree ornaments that jingled with even her slightest movement. Hasani would be thanking him, this visit to Arabia, and his loyalty to England would be secure.

The sun was beginning it's descent to meld with the horizon when the call to prayer echoed throughout the marketplace and all of Aden. Mr. Lawrence's arms were full of carefully wrapped packages as he and Jazira walked in silence towards his office. It was time to drive the wedge between Frank and Jazira for good, especially since Professor Ward had wrangled up a spot in Mr. Lawrence's own caravan for the cowboy to get to Najd. And while Mr. Lawrence did not mind scuffing up his reputation in the Aden marketplace with a little shop attendant, he did not want his name besmirched in the annals of English history. Enough of the bridal artwork was visible on Jazira's neck and hands to cause Mr. Hopkins to ask what it all meant. Male instinct told Mr. Lawrence, Jazira would not be able to fudge off another half truth. He could envision the whole scene and whatever version he foresaw, they all ended with Frank Hopkins leaving after discovering that his "intended" had opted to "act as a wife" to another man, a man from her home territory, and that she had kept it a secret from him. Why it was enough to drive any man away. He smiled.

The guilt Jazira felt was more oppressive than the veil covering her face. It came crashing down on her as she dressed in her native bridal fashion. The dress she had dreamed of growing up, became a nightmare when she put it on, because it was not for the man she loved. The rest of the day she beat herself, why had she not told Frank the whole truth about her ticket into Rashid as the "bride" of an Arab man, in league with the British. The body art that traveled sloped down her neck, over her shoulders and down her arms were mostly covered up by her thobe. But the back of her hands were clearly visible. It was still very possible that Frank would not notice it, but after realizing how the whole truth would sound to Frank now, how it would hurt him now, made Jazira's heart ache. The only way she could amend things to some extent was to tell Frank the whole horrible business before he had a chance to ask her. She hurried down the street to Mr. Lawrence's office. When she reached the door and opened it, she saw Professor Ward and the same young clerk standing before a map on the wall in conversation. She smiled and looked around the room, Frank was not there. She looked back to see Professor Ward glancing at her and then at Mr. Lawrence as he walked into the office and shut the door. The clerk came and removed the packages from his arms. Jazira asked with concern,

"Where is Frank?"

The clerk stopped in mid stride then resumed walking out of the room and into another. The Professor studied her a minute before answering without smiling,

"I wouldn't know young lady, he separated earlier in the afternoon."

Mr. Lawrence asked, "You mean, he's not with you?"

Professor Ward's expression showed what he thought of that question, which he did not answer. Jazira sensed accusation in Professor Ward's look and tone and she asked earnestly,

"Did he say where he was going?"

"More importantly, did either of you find lodging this afternoon?" interjected Mr. Lawrence.

But Professor Ward only answered Jazira, with some bite in his voice, "No, he didn't say. We were standing outside of the bridal artist's establishment, he had seen Mr. Lawrence going inside and he asked what type of shop it was, and I of course, told him the truth."

Jazira felt as though she had stabbed in heart, and she clutched her chest. Mr. Lawrence on the other hand found it decidedly hard to keep from clapping his hands together jubilantly, things were working out better than he had planned. Excess energy must have shown on his face since Professor Ward was looking intently at him. Fortunately the clerk re-entered the office saying,

"Some dinner is being served in the courtyard. There is roast meat, rice and coffee. Perhaps not up to your taste, Miss, but adequately filling."

The clerk led the way in direction of the courtyard, and Mr. Lawrence extended an arm inviting Jazira to pass in front of him. When the door swung open, Jazira felt relief upon seeing Frank's mustang still tied up near her stallion. Wherever he was he had not gone so very far away. . .

Or so she had thought. Tucked away from the sight of Mr. Lawrence and Professor Ward in the curtained corner of the one room apartment, there had still been no sign of Frank and it had been dark now for several hours. Jazira felt hopelessly detached from her surroundings, and from the world itself. Little mattered to her, including the mission she had sacrificed too much for. She would see it through, of course, she was a woman of her word, but suddenly it and everything else had lost it's shine. As she lay in her sleeveless shift curled up under a thin woolen blanket on the large pillow mat, she felt entirely alone, much like she had when her father passed away. The dull ache was reborn and now multiplied. She could lay on this mat for an eternity, she could sleep for an eternity, it hardly mattered now. Frank was gone. She had not trusted him, perhaps he would have understood about the "marriage", but even now she doubted it. Frank didn't understand her need to help Mr. Lawrence's daughter, it was like rescuing herself. It was making her own choices, of coming back to Arabia as a free woman, the way she had been created. Only now, what did it matter? What was freedom without love? She had never hungered for freedom until she met Frank. She had dreamed of it, wanted it, but never before had she craved it, worked for it, sacrificed for it, fought for it. The belief that Frank Hopkins could love her, did love her, made freedom important and necessary. Her mind repeated--Frank is gone. Jazira didn't cry, she couldn't, she was too numb. And despite the bright moonlight that had found it's way into her corner of the room through that impossible window, she drifted into a nightmarish sleep.


	22. In The Moonlight

He had not planned to stay there as long as he had, perched on the flat roof under the enormous disk of the moon getting a new perspective of Aden and of life. There had been much to consider after he had walked away from the professor in the marketplace. He needed to be alone, to lick his wounds, and he appreciated now that his lack of Arabic had prevented him from further danger, the only thing he could find to drink was coffee, and he drank an abundance of it, rehashing the entirety of his relationship with Jazira. It all lead him to one conclusion, there had been no problem, no gulf that could not be bridged between Jazira and himself, until Mr. Lawrence entered their lives. It had all started in the cargo hold on that passage to America and from that point forward there had been trouble between the two of them, and Frank saw something else too. He had a knack for sensing his own faults, and it served him well once more. Why had he not treated or courted Jazira as he would have an American woman? He had argued that she wouldn't have wanted that formal treatment, but all the same, Frank knew he had not even tried, he had taken her affection for granted. And after their first disagreement, he had dropped the subject of marriage altogether. Of course that was still his vision--Jazira, the ranch in Missouri. So, what was he waiting for? With caffeine induced reflection, he realized he was waiting for her to leave him, because what was there to stay for? Fortunately an image popped into his mind. There he was in the Great Race, on Hidalgo, at the starting line, looking for a reason to keep pushing on, an image to carry with him to the end of the race or the end of his life, wherever it took him. He had looked over his shoulder, and there she was, believing in him even when he did not believe in himself. And she had seen him previously at one of his lowest points, his weakest self, and still she believed in him. She truly saw him, when others did not. So why, when he was so close to having that one person in his life for good, why had he purposefully backed away? He had followed her to Arabia, but he had abandoned the idea of a committed relationship at the first sign of trouble. He had never sealed an engagement with her. No woman who was loved, deserved less. Not to mention, he really didn't understand what he saw at the bridal artist shop. He had reacted merely on assumption. Frank drained another cup of coffee and reviewed the facts. They all conclusively pointed to the fact that Jazira loved hm, and he loved her, and they needed to be together for the rest of their lives. And Frank needed to do something about it, to make that possible.

He had wandered back through the marketplace, but without finding Jazira, the professor, or Mr. Lawrence. As he passed along, observing the overly meek native women gave Frank a new appreciation for the strong willed woman that was Jazira. When the call to prayer echoed around him, Frank was struck with an idea, and he followed that instead of meeting up with the group at Mr. Lawrence's office. It was time he took control of his circumstances.

It was dark when Frank reached the office to find it deserted for the evening. He walked to the building where they had found lodging earlier in the day, but completely unsettled due to all the coffee earlier in the day, he climbed up to the roof to gather his thoughts before joining everyone else. The roof gave him the solace of an Arabian night, and enabled him to see his course clearly. Finally, he was ready. He stood up, felt his shirt pocket, smiled, and lowered himself carefully off the roof and onto the top step leading down to the door separating him from Jazira and the others. He tried the lever, glad it was unlocked, perhaps they had been expecting him, and stepped into the still, dark room. Frank was aware that Mr. Lawrence sat up from his corner of the room, not realizing that his cowboy hat had saved him from getting shot. There was movement from the professor as well, but Frank never saw that the historian had his weapon out as well, only aimed at the other man. Only that curtained corner mattered to Frank, he knew that was where Jazira lay. In several long strides he reached the linen drape, pulled it back and stepped inside it's enclosure. Lying at his feet, Jazira was curled up in a blanket, in a shaft of moonlight. Frank's lips parted, he took a deep breath then dropped to his knees beside her. Her hair concealed her face from his view and he gingerly placed a hand on her shoulder. She stirred and he leaned close to her whispering hoarsely,

"Jazira."

Even in her drowsiness there was excitement in her voice, "Frank?" The blanket was off immediately and she raised up, her dark hair tumbling over his shoulders and bare arms. Frank had never seen so much of her skin before, and his eyes were drawn to the designs trailing down her shoulders and arms, the path up to her neck. He felt his skin tingle. She looked at him as they both sat up and faced one another. She exclaimed in a whisper, "Frank! You're here! I thought. . .I didn't know what had happened. . ." She saw his eyes on her shoulders and arms and rushed on, "I was going to tell you, I should have told you earlier, but I was scared. I was scared it would make us grow further apart from one another, when already we were. . ."

Frank was listening, but it was Jazira who stopped speaking and took his face in her hands and kissed him. Frank collected her in his arms and then remembered. He pulled back a moment. Worry tracked across Jazira's eyes and Frank said,

"It's not you or me that's doing it--dividing us, pulling us apart, it's him, it's Mr. Lawrence."

Jazira was taken aback and she whispered urgently, "What? I don't understand?"

Frank took her hands in his and replied just as at once, "Trust me. Work with him, help him, find his daughter, but. . .don't trust him." He took from his shirt pocket, the ring purchased earlier from the marketplace and slid it on her finger saying, "I don't know what his plans are for you and . . ."

"Hasani," Jazira supplied and explained, "That is the only plausible way I can enter the city and join the circle of women there, is to go as his bride. It is in name only, nothing more."

Realization washed over Frank, providing a little relief. He held her hand, admiring the ring on her finger. However, her eyes were still locked on his trying to interpret his feelings, as his eyes met hers again, Frank said,

"In America a ring like this, worn on this hand, on this finger represents two people who belong to one another. Will you wear mine?"

Jazira looked at her hand quickly then back at Frank asking, "This is how it is done in America?" She felt a chill of excitement and shivered.

Frank's eyes traveled from her hand up her bare arm and he reached his strong yet gentle hand to her shoulder and asked as he gazed at the delicate artwork on her skin,

"You're cold?"

He couldn't have been further off the mark, Jazira thought and she replied breathlessly, "No. . ." And recognizing she had not answered his previous question amended, "I mean, yes, I will wear the ring, it will never leave my finger, but. . .no, I'm not cold."

Frank mesmerized by the design on her skin, traced it with his forefinger, saying in a daze, "Cold in Arabia? It was a crazy question."

The magic between them shattered with Mr. Lawrence's voice, "Jazira, we have an early start in the morning. You'll need your rest."

"Leave them alone," grumbled the professor from the other corner of the room.

Frank and Jazira grinned at one another, but Frank's hand dropped to his side as he said,

"I won't be traveling with you to the Najd. Someone has been following you, the professor saw him. So, I'm going to hang back and keep a low profile. Maybe there'll be a way to flush him out. But don't worry, I won't be far away."

Jazira nodded, already feeling insecure just knowing Frank would not be with her on the trip. Frank added looking through the curtain where Mr. Lawrence was bedded down,

"Besides, we wouldn't have a moment together anyway, with him around. I'll be more useful this way. Trust me."

Jazira took his hands, "I do."

Frank nodded, pulled her to him, kissed her warmly, then stood up to leave. Jazira self consciously pulled the blanket around her once more, then stood up and embraced Frank saying wistfully,

"I can't wait until this is all over, and we can go home."

Frank whispered in her ear, "That's makes two of us, Princess."


	23. Sands in the Hourglass

Going home, that was the image Frank Hopkins carried in his mind as he traveled across the lonely desert sands to Najid with only his shadow riding beside him across the constantly shifting landscape. Frank had spun the picture with such detail that he could see it as clearly as he could see the trailing footpaths of his companions, the Professor, Mr. Lawrence, and Jazira, who had traveled ahead of him hours earlier. Their tracks had become so familiar they had become a single print, parts of a whole pattern in the sand, and the seemingly endless continuity allowed Frank▓s mind the freedom to formulate with even greater clarity the sum reason of why he and Jazira were back in Arabia. How they had become involved with Mr. Lawrence, why the Professor had engaged himself so readily to their meager band, and above all else, Frank▓s own unsettling sensations that deeper, darker forces were at work. Ever since returning to Arabia, Frank was consumed with a dreadful sense of foreboding, it was a feeling unique only to one other time in his life, a day that had taken years to redefine and rehabilitate from, the day he had delivered that fateful telegram, the day that had ended with his people being massacred. All the whiskey in the world could never wash away the memory of that day, nor the memory Frank had, the very same sensation he could not ignore now, that death hung in the air, like those heavy morning fogs that hover close to the ground fighting to relinquish one breath of space to the sun. 


End file.
